


A Vehicon's Work is Never Done

by CyberneticFire



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Alcohol, Canon-Typical Violence, Drunkenness, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:26:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25143106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CyberneticFire/pseuds/CyberneticFire
Summary: WY-41 is rather young to be leading a squadron, and the stress of Earth may be getting to him, but things aren't all bad! His squadron helps more than hinders him and he has survived his fair share of casualties! Though the embarrassment he receives on behalf of said squadron is unfortunately one of them...
Comments: 4
Kudos: 7





	1. Sensory Overload

**Author's Note:**

> Heya! This is a series of works that I'd written quite some time ago and never did much with them so I've decided to dump them here! (I.E. these are old and may contain a few errors) Most were the product of a short prompt or had a word goal to reach which explains the shortness of some, but hopefully someone might find entertainment in them. ^^ I may touch up and add more of the unfinished ones if I feel like it, but for now these are it. My headcanon for the Vehicons is that they are all designated to 'squadrons' that each has a unit leader of sorts. WY-41 is one of those leaders. A bit young for his position, but he certainly does his best. This is why he's addressed as 'commander' at some point.  
> A list of terms I use:  
> Servo (hand), chassis (chest), helm (head), processor (mind), optics (eyes), pede (foot), vents(lungs), klik (second), cycle (minute), mega-cycle (hour), solar-cycle (day), deca-cycle (week), lunar-cycle (month), stellar-cycle (year)  
> Sorry for the long note! Enjoy! ^^

The autobots were here. This was the worst possible scenario. WY-41 stood in rank with his fellow vehicons, all standing alert with guns poised and waiting for the command to attack. He glanced quickly to the side in an attempt to catch even a glimmer of doubt on the nearly identical faces of the bots around him. WY-41 vented sharply. He forced his attention back on the approaching Autobots. 

For bots who claim themselves to be merciful, there was no mercy as they tore through the first group of vehicons. The young mech's engine rattled nervously as they drew closer with every passing klik. Commander Starscream barked the order and WY-41 charged forward in the midst of the other purple soldiers and opened fire.

.

.

.

Energon. There was energon absolutely _everywhere_. WY-41 didn't have the time nor presence of mind to properly panic. 

Shapes, colors, and sounds blurred together as he whirled around, leaping from one piece of cover to the next in an attempt to avoid and hit his target. In this instance, that target was the Autobot scout. 

The scout - what was his name again? - was presently doing a great job of dodging his shots and WY-41 grew noticeably more frantic as he kept coming closer and closer. The vehicon looked to the side in desperation, his hope dashing away as he saw his comrades falling all around him. There was only a small handful of them left. The autobots were winning. 

WY-41 moved to shift his attention back to the autobot scout again but was stopped as a searing pain shot through his arm. Not soon after his cry of pain, a black fist smashed full force into his face plate. Static filled his vision as he was knocked ungracefully to the ground. 

WY-41's spark dropped as he was sure he was done for, but through the static-filled haze the sound of an opening groundbridge rang out loud and clear. Clawed servos wrapped around his arms and he didn't think to struggle in his dazed state. His panicked thoughts slowed to a sluggish pace and he allowed himself to be dragged through the portal as his vision faded to black. 


	2. Rude Awakening

When WY-41 came online, he  hadn't expected the first thing  he'd see to be a  buzz saw dangerously close to his helm.  Needless to say , he screamed  pretty loud .

"Hey! Calm down," Knockout, the  Decepticon's medic, griped as he tried to keep the struggling soldier down, "you're in the  medbay , I'm just trying to fix your arm!"

After another few minutes of clipped explanations, WY-41's panicked cries quieted to sharp intakes.

"W-what happened?" WY-41 had managed to form a coherent sentence in his confusion.  Thankfully he was too busy freaking out to properly register the dull throbbing in his arm or helm.


	3. Overcharge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The squad indulges in a drink or two. Or three-

WY-41 observed the Nemesis's recreation room nervously. He swirled the remnants of the cube of energon in his servo as he took note of everything happening around him. WY-42 sat quietly beside him, watching him with calculating optics and holding a similarly half drunken cube of energon. 

WY-41 didn't pay him any mind as he scanned the room dutifully. He was the leader of this squadron of vehicons, despite the obvious age difference between him and them, and it was his job to watch over them all. The job, to him, was very stress inducing. WY-41 had been training to be one of the many vehicon commanders during the war but was never able to graduate officially before he was shipped off. It was mostly thanks to WY-42 that he didn't have a spark attack over everything. 

"Hello? Earth to 41? You still in there, mech?" WY-42 rapped at the side of WY-41's helm with a digit. 

"Huh- what?" WY-41 stammered before sheepishly shoving the servo away. "Sorry...were you saying something?" 

"You look worried. I asked if you were alright," he repeated. 

"Uh yeah, I was just lost in thought. Thinking about...things." 

Despite the visor, WY-41 was sure he could see 42 roll his optics. 

"Calm down, mech, nothing bad is gonna happen. The squad got the solar-cycle off, I think we can let them celebrate a little!" WY-42 chuckled as he took a swig from his cube. He moved to speak again but paused hearing the raucous laughter from a nearby table. "Though we may need to step in before anyone gets too overcharged..." he finished in amusement. 

"Yeah, 46 can barely walk straight," WY-41 commented at the humorous sight. "You are right, though. They deserve this. It'll be good for them, considering how hard they've been working." 

"You got that right." He hummed with an inward smirk. "Speaking of hard work," he put his cube down to face WY-41 and address him more clearly, "you're doing a lot better than you were on your first solar-cycle, 'commander'. I know it's hard considering how young you are. I promise to keep helping when I can, and I'll take over if you're ever feeling overwhelmed. Remember I'm always a comm away." 

WY-41 felt the heat rise to his face plates and he turned away quickly, the sputtering of his vents conveying how flustered he was. 

"W-well I couldn't do it without your help...You've got a lot more experience than me." He sat there quietly nursing his energon cube before speaking up a bit jokingly. "But I think all this energon's making you sappy, old bot..." 

WY-42 laughed loudly at that. 

The sound left WY-41 much more at ease and he sipped at his energon whilst looking over the state of his squadron. He was not nearly as overcharged as they were, opting to stay out of drinking more than he needed to refuel. They, however, had earned the right to celebrate, and on his and 42's terms, get a little extra energon. 

WY-43, 48, and 50 were crowded at a table attempting to play a simple card game. The empty cubes were often nearly sent flying from the table as WY-48 kept loudly accusing 43 of cheating and 43 would retort with just as much zest. Neither of them suspected 50 who was quite nearly recharging while sitting up. 

WY-46 had finally managed to stumble to the table occupied by 44 and 45. She leaned haphazardly on it with an arm and went ahead to loudly join in on their conversation. WY-45's voice carried over the others as he would respond just as excitedly about the topic. WY-44 seemed content to offer input occasionally and acted much more sober than 46 or 45. 

The last two vehicons, WY-47 and WY-49, had managed to keep their voices low as they chattered cheerfully at another table. All in all, WY-41's squadron seemed to be in high spirits. That was good. 

WY-41 continued to smile to himself, feeling considerably better than before, as he sipped at his energon. He watched over his soldiers - his friends - and couldn't help but take in their infectious cheer. 

He moved to comment to WY-42 about it, but a loud thud cut him off and made him jump. Optics flashing, he turned and looked at WY-42's torso splayed across the table and the empty cube next to him. The loud snoring reached his audios and he huffed an amused sigh of relief. 

"I was keeping an eye on the others when I should've been watching you," WY-41 muttered with a stifled snort as he patted his mentor's shoulder plate sympathetically. 

His audios picked up the sound of pedesteps and he quickly turned to see the door to the rec. room slide open. His optics widened and the chatter in the room quieted in the slightest as the communications chief strolled in. 

WY-45 and WY-46's discussion now seemed obnoxiously loud and WY-41 felt his faceplate flush once again as he noted the overcharged state of just about everyone but himself. He tried hard not to watch the silent mech as he walked calmly across the room towards the energon station but the thought of the high-ranking officer seeing his squadron like this made him uncomfortable. 

"At your service communication Soundwave, sir!" WY-50 blurted in a slur as he jolted awake, making sense to no one but himself. He seemed to try to stand for a minute before just pouting and slumping forward again to fall back into recharge. 

WY-41 probably would have seen it if he weren't hiding his faceplate behind his servos to mask the stupid embarrassed glow of teal that wouldn't leave. He was glad to have a visor. 

Soundwave showed no sign that he'd even heard the overcharged vehicon, unless the subtle twitch in his digits meant something. He chose to ignore them, reaching for a cube of energon before turning and walking briskly towards the door with his prize. 

WY-41 would've sworn he didn't drink that much energon, but he wasn't so sure after he saw Soundwave look past the others and directly at him before walking out without a word. 

WY-41 slowly slid the remains of his energon cube away from himself. He came to the solid assumption that he'd had enough for the cycle. 


	4. Different Yet Equal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Breakdown and WY-41 have a little chat.

The soft clicking of digits on a keyboard was the only thing to fill the suffocating silence in the room. Here WY-41 stood alone at the single monitor, typing away at some processor-numbing report that  he'd been badgered into compiling. He had half a mind to wonder how  Soundwave managed to do this every solar-cycle. Of every  deca -cycle. All the time.

A heavy vent escaped WY-41 as he consciously shifted his weight over to his better leg and skimmed what  he'd typed for the fifteenth time. The young  mech vaguely thought he felt a processor ache coming on. He  didn't have time to dwell on it though, as the door behind him slid open. He quite nearly jumped out of his armor as he whirled around to see who had walked in.

"Whoa!" Breakdown raised his servos  placatingly as WY-41 scrambled backwards. "At ease! Didn't mean to startle you, commander." WY-41 lost some of the tension in his frame , but a look of confusion remained on his faceplate.

"Did you need something, sir?" The purple  mech's optics flashed slightly as he pried further, "Have you come to collect this report? I was told it didn't need to be turned in until-"

"No  no , it's not that, don't worry," Breakdown cut in to stop WY-41's anxious  tirade . "I just came to. . . check in on you?" He let the  datapad in his servo lower to his side with a vent. "I'm going to drop the professionalism for a cycle and talk with you, bot to bot. I heard you had a run in with M -....  with some humans."

WY-41 looked down. He was still ashamed of the whole ordeal. So that was known around the ship now too?

"Yeah ... It wasn't ... They didn't ...." the young  mech let out a short nervous laugh and crossed his arms across his chassis, as he tried to decide on what he wanted to vocalize. "Only my leg was injured, and as far as I know, they weren't able to take anything vital from me. Not like what they took ... from .... you." WY-41 winced at his wording. He dragged his gaze back up to Breakdown expecting to see offense or annoyance.

He  didn't expect to see sympathy.

WY-41 wrapped his arms tighter around himself, looking away and shuffling a  pede as he struggled to vocalize something -- anything -- to fill the silence.

"Knockout fixed me," he began a bit frantically, "so there's nothing left for me to worry about. . . I'm going to be cleared for duty in a few solar cycles, I'll just have to be more vigilant. . ."

Breakdown had stayed uncharacteristically quiet throughout this part of the conversation , but WY-41  wasn't thinking about that.

And he _ certainly _ __ wasn't thinking about the recon mission  he'd almost never returned from. Or about the paralyzing fear of being watched and being unable to do a thing about it. Not even of the spark-gripping terror that bit into his entire being as he prayed desperately to Primus -- nothing decipherable -- only broken cries of "help", "save me", and "leave me alone".

He would deny ever thinking about the frigid night air and its battle with his scorching hot armor as he overheated, limbs burning, and vents unable to intake enough air to ever cool down. The feeling of dread still nestled in his tanks when he recalled  onlining immobile with a drill poised over his spark chamber.

"Kid! You need to cycle your intakes!" Breakdown cursed under his breath as he moved forward to help. Fear flashed across WY-41's  visor as he threw himself back against the monitor in an attempt to get away from the approaching mech.

WY-41's engine sputtered pitifully , and confusion was still apparent in his expression as he wondered vaguely about his overheating systems and the black spots filling his vision.

His legs gave out and his armor scraped against the abandoned computer as he pressed his back into it, gripping his chassis and trying in vain to alleviate the building pressure within his chest. He was sure it was going to make him burst.

Breakdown swore again as the young  mech tried to make himself as small as physically possible in the corner. It  wasn't until he repeated what  he'd said for the third time that the message finally sunk into WY-41.

WY-41 sucked in a  copious amount of air and vented harshly while he continued to clutch at his chest as if he could cool his heated frame with determination alone. The spots disappeared  instantaneously , and he slumped in relief as the pain slowly faded as well.

He  didn't move for a few cycles. He continued  intaking air greedily and listening in dazed curiosity as a soft rattling made itself known to his audio receptors. WY-41 focused  dimly on a servo and saw it shake rebelliously against his will. He then concluded after another cycle that the rattling was coming from his own trembling frame.

"Kid?"

A flash of blue caused the disoriented  mech to  flinch and lift his gaze back to the  mech who's  presence terrified him moments ago. WY-41 tried to  come up with something to vocalize but a low  whine from his engine was the only indication that  he'd heard Breakdown at all.

"Kid, are you okay now?"

The blue  mech had his servos raised slightly, and the concerned expression he bore showed that he already had an idea of the answer.

WY-41 continued staring blankly at him for a moment before nodding his helm  in a near  imperceptive way. It took him a click or two more to remember he was on the floor and he gripped the edge of the monitor to pull himself up.

Breakdown reached forward to grab WY-41's upper arm as his legs buckled and his engine  snarled in protest.

"Easy, mech," Breakdown chided in a hushed tone. Not for the first time, he found himself  seething with hatred for the pit-spawned humans that did this to them. "I'm  gonna take  ya to Knockout. The  doc'll know what to do to help you feel better."

It was a statement rather than a suggestion. Breakdown tugged his charge towards the door, mindful of his squirming.

"Commander," he grumbled without malice as they entered the hall -- a warning. WY-41 stopped struggling  at once , though his shaking never ceased. 

The young  mech glued his gaze to the ground, allowing himself to be led along like a sparkling. Truth be told, he was more worried about being put on an examination table twice in one  deca -cycle than anything else.

"You won't have to stay for long," Breakdown reassured, sensing the  vehicon's apprehension. "Just long enough that the doc can give your systems a quick check. And so he can ... try to help you. Like he helped me after ..." He trailed off  with a light cough, knowing he  didn't have to say it. A  shudder from the young  mech was quick to ground him again. The blue  mech almost commented on the lack of security, but WY-41 spoke up first.

"Why?" The purple  mech questioned quietly, a stark contrast to his usually  excitable manner. Breakdown blinked at him.

"Why what?"

"Why do you care what happens to me?" WY-41 pressed, a bit of his earlier energy returning, "I'm just a  vehicon . . . I may be a commander of my squad , but it  wouldn't be impossible or even that hard to replace me. . ." Breakdown's gaze hardened as he rounded the corner with the young  mech close behind.

"That's a harsh way of thinking of things," he snapped back, stopping in front of the medical bay's doors to peer down at him. "We're all  cybertronians here. Just because there are more of you guys doesn't mean you're worth any less." The  vehicon let his gaze drop again, mumbling something that  didn't quite reach Breakdown's audio receptors.

"What was that, commander?" Breakdown slowly inquired.

WY-41 raised his optics to meet those of Breakdown's and uttered a short but sincere phrase: "Thank you."

The corner of Breakdown's mouth twitched up and he gave a small nod of understanding. He clicked the access panel near the door and gave the  vehicon a quick pat on the back.

"Don't mention it, kid."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes Mech does happen to get their hands on him at some point- The fic for that wasn't quite finished but I will add it if I do happen to finish it! For context he was taken for maybe a day before autobots intervened. Enough time to look into things but not enough to do anymore permanent damage than what was done to his leg.


End file.
